


Jade in the Flame

by SisterOfSeven



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: BDSM, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Bondage, Cutting, Dominant Masochism, F/F, Leather, Leather Kink, Masturbation, Self-Insert, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 00:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12494448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterOfSeven/pseuds/SisterOfSeven
Summary: Seven seeks her humanity with the help of a councillor, but finds it in more pleasurable ways than either of them expected.(Caution, gentle folk who enter: this fic contains BDSM and scenes of cutting)





	Jade in the Flame

She was torn from perfection. The smile she’d recaptured, pulled from somewhere between the taken child and the Borg she had become, seemed empty. It would never crease her skin or soften her eyes. But it was too tempting to fabricate, to imagine a rush that didn’t exist, when she sat across from me as she did now. Vague bemusement, that’s all it was, as I broached dreams and desire in a grey-mauve room with the shadows from the leaves of potted plants stretching across the wall, as if they could defy their limits and touch her. A brief flicker, then gone again.

“Dreams are symptoms of the human brain maintaining itself, Councillor. Desire is irrelevant.”

“But you have them,” I replied, noting the flatline of her expression but for the way her eyes had slightly narrowed. “And they trouble you.”

“That should be plain to anyone with access to my medical records.”

“More than that, though. More than the anxiety and the nightmares.”

A shrug of the shoulders, almost a shiver. I had to try not to smile. Working to touch a nerve may have been a requirement of my duties, but it hadn’t given me any satisfaction until Seven. The ornate dagger on the low table pointed towards me, offering her the scarlet handle. The blade flared to leave an open oval in the blade and rejoin itself again in an elegant, glistening arc. To either side, a polished stone the colour of jade, and an oil black feather.

“These are all the objects that have featured in your dreams?” I took the stone in my palm. Even in the warm room it was cold to the touch, a fragment from some distant star.

“The ones that recur most frequently, yes. And not always just the feather.”

“The raven still comes to you?”

“Yes.”

Any real conversation with Seven of Nine needed patience, and the talent for walking the line between perseverance and all-out nagging. Her closed answers had persisted until she’d been brought round to longer sessions, and even then I’d been forced to wring the smallest clues for all they were worth.

“Yes. But what about the ones that don’t recur as often? Isn’t there any dream you’ve had just the once that’s left an impression?” I closed my hands around the stone, feeling it take on my heat and share it against my skin as Seven lowered her eyes.

“In one, I saw the dagger…”

“Just saw it?” I realised I’d leaned forward, so I reined myself in, listing down the symbolism of the blade in my mind to keep it busy, focused.

“No. I was holding it.”

She bent to touch the handle, her lips parted. Two faint, uniform lines deepened between her eyebrows. The stone, now hotter than my palms, felt as though it was throbbing as I tightened my grip. It relieved some of the pressure that writhed in my stomach to see her hand on the blade and think of sacrifice, aggression, penetration.

“I meant to draw blood.”

Her voice brought me back to the room, soft pink light clinging to the severe angles of her cheekbones. She hadn’t moved, not even to look up as I expected her to, the way she did to gauge my response to every word of hers. As I watched, her fingers glanced along the length of the dagger, brushed the point of the blade and came back to grip the handle.

Her knuckles whitened. “I feel no anger towards anyone on this ship. Nonetheless, I held the dagger and meant to do harm.”

“No, Seven.” From the weight in my gut, like I’d swallowed the stone, the words came harsher than I meant them. “We discussed taking dreams too literally. The urge you felt to draw blood could mean you’re reaching deeper for your own humanity.”

“If so, making another human bleed seems inefficient.” That smirk again, but short-lived as the worry returned.

“You’re right about that,” I laughed. “But satisfaction is a start.”

“I did not say it made me feel satisfied.”

“Would you be so concerned if it didn’t?”

She sat with the blade in both hands for a moment, then set it back on the table. “No. I would not.”

She watched my face as I watched her, our intentions the same. I took the risk. “Have you been recording and revisiting your dreams, as I suggested? Would you feel comfortable going back to that dream, having me observe?”

This, more than any one of my questions that frayed her words to their most frail and bare, made her widen her eyes. She shifted her legs as if she could press them closer together in her regimented sitting position, but settled for cupping her hands together on her thighs. If there was any way for Seven to look vulnerable, it was broken as she nodded, stood, collected the knife and feather from the table.

“Goodnight, Councillor.”

“I’ll see you same time tomorrow. Holodeck 3.”

It wasn’t until she was gone that I remembered I still held the stone. As I undressed in my quarters, it had fallen cold, but it did nothing to soothe the fevered heat pressed against my neck, my breasts, stubborn in my stomach. Still, I held it there as I remembered something I had missed in the tease of Seven’s retort. _Another human._

I drew the sheets in around me, until the heat was almost too much to bear, and rubbed against my ache to soothe the impossibility from my mind. Pressing the jade replication Seven had carried to my office between my thighs, I buried my face in the pillow to muffle the moans as my orgasm slicked the stone.

 

The soft thought control I had learned for my work could sometimes be twisted around to make me see sense. It wasn’t working tonight, as I made my way for another appointment. Just another appointment. She would have been suspicious if I hadn’t returned the stone, so I’d washed it of any remnant of myself and brought it with me. Still, part of me was hoping she’d see my guilt.

I reached the door to Holodeck 3 and found nobody there. I stated my name, rank and authorisation code, and the door opened onto a dark room, black stone walls, red fire burning behind a black hearth. Then something cold at my throat.

“You kept me waiting,” came Seven’s voice from somewhere low, beside me. “That was unprofessional of you. You will face punishment.”

She rose to stand in front of me, the weapon still sharp on my neck. The firelight licked over the black she wore, slick as the raven’s feather. The suit clung to her like a second skin, tighter even than her uniform, tits straining beneath the stiff leather with her every breath. Desire irrelevant, it must have been the flames that flushed her face.

I let out the gasp I’d held behind the blade. “The dream?”

“You asked for it.”

Her refusal to move and even stare weakened my knees.

“You stole my stone. Give it back.”

I held it out to her, and she came a step closer to take it from me. The bodysuit came down to cover every finger in the leather, and the green of the stone became all the more vivid as she turned it in her hand. She lifted it to her mouth, lips almost touching, and inhaled.

“It reeks of you. I will see to it that you never dare to steal from me again.”

She drew the blade across my throat and the sting took all strength from my legs. She dragged me up from the floor, pressed my body to hers and tasted where I could feel the blood begin to run.

“So human,” she said. “Pathetic, desperate for anything of mine.” Letting go, she gripped my shoulder and neck, forcing me to stand. “Tell me,” she breathed against my wound, “would you truly take anything from me?”

“Yes,” I said. “Anything.”

“Then you will. And I will take what I want in return.”

She pushed me away, let me fall to the cold floor and went to the fire. She set down the stone in the heat and lay where the light cast a glow on her impenetrable glare, the blade with the blood in her hand. Shadows surrendered from the bones beneath her black suit, her clavicle and hips weapons I wanted to impale myself on.

“Show me what a human will do for its desire.”

I crawled to her, even as the cut burned and spilled, staining my uniform with the drops of blood that seemed to quiver in flame on the floor. I offered my throat to her, and the hungered force of her tongue threatened to open the wound further.

“Please,” I pushed out through the pain as she sucked, the ache of the urge to ride her bones, her leather.

“You wanted me to take my humanity. I’ll take it as I wish.”

“No. I don’t want you to stop.”

She drew away, my blood smeared and dripping over her lips as she sneered. “What else could such a pitiful life form want?”

“Touch me.” It was all I could do to get the words out before shame took control. Even as I spoke, I felt my wetness creep down my thighs, soaking through my uniform with the blood.

“No.”

A cry of agony almost escaped me, before I saw she held the dagger by the blade, offering me the handle.

“But,” she mocked, “my satisfaction is a start. Start cutting.”

As I tentatively took the blade, she guided it to her inner thigh.

“Cut, but don’t draw blood.”

I was forced to sever every thread I could find, and at last I could tear through with my bare hands until the soft blonde hair of her pussy shone almost white in the light. She hadn’t made a sound or uttered a word as I’d worked, and as I looked up at her face and blinked through sweat, her expression was still one of mild contempt.

“Now,” she said. “Taste me.”

I pulled the last of the leather away from her to force my face in, suck the lips of her pussy and feel them swollen in my mouth. For all her composure, I could taste the salt, the desire. As I licked all of her with the same punishing force she had my neck, she bucked her hips, her moan frustrated and begrudging. She pulled me up to bite my lips and suck my tongue, hands gripping my shoulders.

“Do I taste human?” she whispered so my mouth could feel the words, breath heavy. “Now I’ll take what I want. I have to know.”

Panting and animalistic, she tore through the crotch of my uniform. Her leathered fingers came cold inside me, thrusted once for her to take them away, suck them, smile.

“You have taken enough punishment, human,” she said, and filled my cunt with the cold leather of her hand.

But I could take more. I fell back and scraped my elbows against the floor from the force of her fingers, the sudden pleasure of their mechanical strength weakening my knees. She observed the daze of my comedown from shock, the moment’s fear that she’d push too far, with an open disdain that exposed me to the steady presence of her conditioning. The kind of loathing that could not be performed, or repressed under pressure.

“This is the weakness of humans.” In her pause, the fire crackled and kindling split on some algorithm for artificial randomness. In a blink, her eyes softened as though the sound had snapped her out of instinct. “Struck dumb and disorientated by something so pitiful as pleasure.”

There it was. The way she performed Borg far more than humanity, but this time not out of self-defence. She rocked her hips forward, straightening up to take in more of me, to see and sense the tension that twitched through my body as she tried to stay blank. Successful, but for a brief tightening of her jaw, holding something back. Just imagining the sound she’d had to restrain made me buck into her hand, so close to pushing down just right on her fingers before she pulled them back. Those deadly reflexes.

“It is fortunate for you,” she said, “that knowledge of such responses is beneficial to us.” Her hand slid back in, my need slicking the glove free of all friction, and opened me wide.

The strain of her fingers pulsing, teasing wider still, I clenched and unclenched my hands against the floor for some purchase that didn’t exist. The polished surface only stuck to the sweat on my palms. The luxurious heat the same inside as on the surface by the fire urged me to bear down, my hips high and thighs open to invite more of her inside me.

She would not accept so easily. Even as my eyes screwed shut, I knew she would be scanning my reactions, determining all I wanted. I whimpered open-mouthed in wanting frustration, my legs too weak to push into her even though it was my body’s one instinct.

She sighed, her one admission of desire, as she eased herself deeper.

I felt her left hand, its exoskeletal structure, brush against my arm as she leaned over me. As my body shuddered and writhed against the floor, I pushed against the bones of her wrist. They drove against the bones where my thighs were bared by the ripped slit in my uniform, a hard resistance and grinding pain that intensified the dizzying tautness in my pussy, the opening pulled to pleasure.

She said nothing, made no sound. Only breathed her neutral scent on my cheek, cool in the candied edge of wood smoke, as she flexed and turned her hand inside me. Her knuckles seemed to stretch me until my hips wouldn’t let her go any further, then released, drawing back for another thrust and turn that groaned deep and high into my stomach.

In the dreamlike haze I went back to the night before, remembering how I pressed the jade stone between my legs and rubbed its soft edges over my clit, now burning again like the rock on the hearth. I reached down to touch it, Seven gripping my wrist and forcing it back by my side while her hand pulsed and turned, faster and driving deeper. She held me tighter, her thumb squeezing into my palm with the rhythm of her fist.

I suffered there, until she relinquished her hand and moved her thigh in between mine. The cold solidity, so close to the floor beneath me, soothed the swell of blood and desperation as the stone had, slippery yet sure and rough as I needed it. She leaned deeper into me and let me ride her hard, gripping her thigh between both of mine. Though my right hand was still imprisoned by hers, she let my left hand come down to explore how I felt pressed against her, how her skintight suit was slicked where I fucked it.

I cried out in torment when she forced me back for more of her hand. But two thrusts were all I needed to come, constricting around her wrist as a primitive scream ripped from my throat. The release opened my mind to the wound still bleeding at my neck. It pulsated with my calming heart, and even in the echoes of pleasure I felt shame creeping from my own conditioning. Until Seven lay down beside me.

“A surrender I am unused to,” she said as her sleepy eyes turned from the ceiling to me, with the suggestion of a smile. “Seeing it was stimulating.”

“Stimulating, hm?” I repeated, meaning nothing by it but feeling a pang of regret as she suddenly sat up.

“That description is inaccurate. It was . . . pleasurable.” She lifted the hand that had been inside me, turning it over, inspecting. The fire glanced over her fingers, flickering. “To think I could feel that way. . .”

When I sat up to face her, I was wary of the frayed cut in my uniform, exposing the flesh still swollen there. But when she turned, it was to meet my eyes.

“If you feel you’d be more successful searching for your humanity here,” I said, “we could make these sessions more regular.”

Seven knew better than I how I’d meant that lapse into professional language. She grazed her fingers against the hair I could not hide with my thighs. I shivered. She smiled.

“That would please me, Councillor,” she said.


End file.
